CHAPTER THREE: CONGENIALITY… AND A CONSEQUENTIAL CONTINGENCY

From that twilight hour, our days were long, and full of the amazing joy that paces the beginning and run-along rush of any great friendship. A lengthy absence from the Agency on Lauro's part helped our developing relationship in spades. Elsa let her soul flow over into me like a tipped fountain, and I received it, gave it back and was glad. Who could have guessed that we actually had so much in common – including a shared love of Star Trek: The Next Generation! ("I see something of myself in each of the characters," Elsa told me. "Picard - one of the most respected personnel in Starfleet. Highly skilled, yet lonely. Keeps feelings in check. Worf – the consummate warrior. Data - android, so no emotion. Logic rules. LaForge – chief engineer. I absolutely relate to the pride he takes in the upkeep of his systems.")

With coaching from me, Elsa trained herself to look at people when they spoke to her, to have a firm handshake, and answer questions with a smile. Old behavior was cracking off her like a shell, and the person inside was a nice, responsible young lady. I eventually deemed Elsa completely ready to be re-integrated among the rest of our comrades, and began formulating a plan for her coming-out into our society and a formal apology that she would deliver to the others. But this never came to fruition – Lauro's eventual return and a reshuffling of timetables resulted in me seeing Elsa less and less, and there eventually came a one-week period during which we were completely unable to meet. When we finally got to see each other again, it would be under circumstances that were unexpected, shocking and tragic in the extreme.

It was Hillshire who left me aghast with news that Elsa and Lauro had been discovered dead in a park on the outskirts of Rome. A bullet wound to the head killed Lauro, and Elsa took a round neatly through the eye-socket - the only spot where a conventional bullet could inflict injury of any kind on an extra-normal junior operative - that pierced her brain and instantly snuffed out her life. The Social Welfare Agency's official verdict regarding the incident was this: left-wing terrorists – almost certainly members of a particularly vicious group affiliated to Padania and who have no qualms about attacking the police – ambushed the pair at the park, and Elsa died trying to protect her supervisor.

No one but Hillshire and I were at the morgue to bid Elsa a final goodbye. Since death had cruelly denied her the opportunity to properly show everyone her rediscovered goodness, all the others only remembered Elsa's former unplesantness and let their abhorrence of her persist. This state of affairs was truly sorrowful, and I wept bitterly and unabashedly for my fallen friend.

On our way out from the morgue, I spotted Liesel standing under a nearby tree, staring blankly at that house of bereavement and looking very sad. She looked as if she wanted to go in, but had not the heart to do so. Her behavior struck me as being highly unusual, for she – like all the other Agency kids bar myself – had never been on good terms with Elsa. I did not get to ask her why she acted in such a way.

My grief over Elsa's passing rapidly turned into cold fury. I promised never to take a prisoner in battle, swearing that I would hence forth coolly and dispassionately ventilate with lead every Padania terrorist who came my way – preferably through the guts. For a time I made good my oath, and must have avenged Elsa almost thirty times over. Hillshire, deeply worried for me, advised me that no measure of retribution would bring Elsa back, and that the hatred that ran through me would in the long run consume and destroy me.

It was not so much the shame I felt in due course about my actions, nor the undeniable truth of my supervisor's words, that eventually ceased my vicious behavior – it was learning the terrible truth about the deaths of Elsa and Lauro that did so. I alone among the Agency kids am fully in the know about what happened that night – revealed to me when I eavesdropped on a whispered conversation between Jean and Chief Lorenzo that took place behind closed doors. The former stated with great consternation that the fatal slugs had both been fired from Elsa's weapon, and the latter, though shaken, ordered for the actual facts to be hushed up by using the aforementioned 'official verdict' as a smokescreen.

Lauro's treatment of Elsa was horrible, and unquestionably warranted punishment. But to have it being dispensed in such a fashion was nothing but dreadful, and I could only wonder what could have transpired between them during the week prior to their deaths that could have spurred Elsa to throw her newfound humanity to the winds and commit such an appalling act. The odds were that she was subjected to something outrageously traumatic. In the end, a brutal logic convinced me that such a conclusion was inevitable, given the fact that Elsa could never truly be free of Lauro's influence. All the same, I was utterly heartbroken, and it was a long, long time before atomic winter no longer infused my soul. It is with deep gratitude that I extend my appreciation to Hillshire for his successful efforts in bringing me back from the brink of despair.

Since Elsa's death, my existence has been pretty much quiet and commonplace. But sometimes, as I sit by the fire on nights when the wind wails in the chimney - nights like the one when her long-held defences crumbled and she opened up to me - my thoughts travel back to Elsa, and to a sad tale of opportunities lost.

END OF CHAPTER THREE

P.S. - Another Gunslinger Girl fanfic by yours truly, 'Justice Served', is now readable in the M-rated section of this fanfic archive. Give it a go if you wish!